


this christmas

by moanna



Category: Morning Glories
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 03:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moanna/pseuds/moanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You wore it,” Zoe exclaimed when Casey walked into their room, pencil falling completely from her hand onto the extra chemistry work she was doing to avoid exposure to as much of Morning Glory Academy’s surprising abundance of Christmas Cheer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted at the MG ficathon on LJ.

“You _wore_ it,” Zoe exclaimed when Casey walked into their room, pencil falling completely from her hand onto the extra chemistry work she was doing to avoid exposure to as much of Morning Glory Academy’s surprising abundance of Christmas Cheer.

Casey looked down at her chest, as if it was possible to forget the atrocity that was currently over her standard-issue white button-down.

The sweaters were absolutely horrific, on every level. They had been sitting on the ends of their beds, almost menacingly so, awaiting the right moment to attack their prey. Zoe had screamed when she saw them, causing Casey to jump awake and hit her head on the bunk above her, which Zoe un-admittedly felt bad about later, but when she tried to explain that _no_ she wasn’t being attacked, but _yes_ this really was a life-or-death situation, Casey and a very groggy Jade did not seem to share the sentiment. 

“It’s a gift. It’s _polite_. And, I mean, it’s not that bad, really. The color is nice?” As Casey responded, the look of disgust on Zoe’s face only grew.

“Do you call an artifact left by the devil a “gift”? The devil who is quite fond of knives and the color pink and probably has a drawer full of beheaded doll-replicas of half the class?” Zoe could see from Casey’s growing look of bemusement that she clearly wasn’t accepting the gravity of the situation. “And the color. That red used for what I think is blood, is it just me or does it look a bit -- _distinct_ , right? Like the poorly cared-for hair of a certain befreckled roommate of ours?”

The last comment peaked a bit of worry in Casey’s face, but she maintained her denial of the massacre of a sweater she was wearing. 

The sweater in question was a remarkably lurid shade of puce, featuring a grouping of reindeer dancing about in a line over the death of some indeterminable creature on the back and gleefully plotting their next murderous spree, all under the guise of a “Christmas gift.” This explanation, of course, wasn’t accepted by Saint Casey, although Zoe had definitely seen a nervous look on Jade’s face, as she had explained what clearly was going on in the scene knit by dear, demented Pamela.

The sweater was an absolute monster, so why did she find Casey wearing it so attractive? At least that’s what she thought was the weird feeling she had in her stomach, mixed with the still prevalent revulsion at the so-called gift.

Casey was trying to argue that no, that wasn’t _murder_ on the sweater, it’s probably just like a mistake or something, and her great-aunt used to knit her the most atrocious socks for Christmas, but Zoe couldn’t contain herself any longer. It was something about Casey’s curly hair tossed lazily up in a ponytail (she must have been studying, Zoe had noticed Casey always put her hair back when there was some particularly difficult problem) combined with her continued self-assuredness even though she was wearing what was very likely the single most atrocious sweater in existence, and so Zoe interrupted Casey while she was discussing some childhood fear of knitting needles now.

“Oh my _god_ just take it _off_ ,” she groaned exasperatedly. She covered herself though, not wanting to seem quite as sexually frustrated as that could be taken. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, or I don’t know how people could look at you all day with that thing on, my eyes are starting to burn.”

Casey’s eyes lit up as her mouth opened to form the words Zoe realize she had just walked into: “Make me.”

Zoe sighed as she looked down at her work one last time then turned to look at Casey with feigned disdain. “You realize we have to make out now don’t you.”

“I don’t know I might just go back to the library, maybe find Pamela and thank her for the gift, you know, it was _really_ thoughtful,” Casey’s smirk was growing, god she must be pleased with herself. 

“I almost said ‘shut up’ but only realized you’d respond ‘make me’ to that too, god you’re predictable.” 

Casey had walked over near the desk at this point, placing one hand on the edge and leaning slightly. Zoe resisted grabbing her down to her level, but there was no amount of attraction in the world that could make her touch something that atrocious.

Casey must’ve sensed the hesitation in Zoe, as she responded, “You know I wasn’t _entirely_ joking when I suggested you make me take the sweater off.”

“Look, you’re hot and all, but there is no way I’m touching you until that thing is off and preferably also burned.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s growing on me,” Casey replied, feigning offence. She moved to crouch over Zoe’s lap, one leg on either side of her, causing Zoe to be in near-direct eyesight with the atrocity as she leaned over her, saying, “You might just have to get used to it. Maybe this sweater is the real me, y’know?”

“Get away from me, get away from me, get a- _way_ ,” Zoe breathed, shutting her eyes firmly, although a slight smirk was peeking out from the corner of her mouth.

“If you touch me with that, I swear to god, I _will_ kill you.” Casey of course didn’t know she knew how to kill, so she seemed to take the threat lightly, although Zoe could hear the soft laughter coming from the girl next to her and the sound of muffled clothes moving, followed by a thud on the bed across the room. 

“You can open your eyes now, I swear,” Casey said, as Zoe felt her weight resting on her lap. Before Zoe could open her eyes, Casey’s lips were on hers, soft, closed, and Zoe moved her arm on instinct to her hair, still in a ponytail although much messier after the presumed removal of the sweater, and wound her fingers in the curls at the base of her neck that were slowly falling out.

Casey’s arm came around her back, her hand gently pushing up her shirt, and Zoe went to return her kiss when suddenly Casey’s head had pulled back.

“You don’t _really_ think Pamela used Jade’s hair, do you? I mean, I wore this.” 

Zoe groaned at Casey’s growing look of worry. “It’d explain why I saw her looking through Jade’s bathroom supplies the other day, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Oh god, I _wore_ it, Zoe.”

“Yeah but I’m the one who was _attracted_ to you in it. Who’s worse here?”

“Me. Still me.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to make your Christmas present extra special to console you.”

She didn’t put emphasis on the words _Christmas present_ , hoping that maybe Casey wouldn’t add emphasis to them then, and that she wouldn’t then see the significance in them, and in Zoe getting one for someone else. The soft look on Casey’s face seemed to suggest that she had failed in this, so she let out a meek “Shut up,” before the other girl had yet responded.

“I’m not saying anything!” Casey replied with a fake innocence that made Zoe bury her face in the other girl’s neck.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Zoe expressed, let out as irritated as she could while placed sloppy wet kisses on Casey’s jaw in retaliation.

“But remember, you don’t need to get me anything,” Casey hesitated, and her pause then made Zoe pause. “ _Because all I want for Christmas is youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-_ ,” she then let out, before Zoe started screaming again to drown out the last note, and then Casey was on top of her again, planting kisses on her mouth to stop her screams, giggling all the while, the most natural laugh Zoe had ever heard. The sound brought to mind sleigh bells but she refused to be that saccharine ever, even if she did allow herself to give into Casey’s joy. 

She would absolutely never reveal that she was whistling “It’s the most wonderful time of the year” later that night in the shower.


End file.
